


Misadventure

by Cody_Thomas



Series: Little Bunnies [2]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Adoption, Angst with a Happy Ending, BAMF Bilbo Baggins, Bilbo Baggins was Raised by the Eagles of Manwë, Bilbo's Life Is Like a Side Quest, Everyone Loves Bilbo Baggins, Family Bonding, Family Feels, Family of the heart, Fluff and Feels, Gaining Skills, He Is Everyone's Smol Son, Interspecies Adoption, Looks Like A Cinnamon Roll...But Could Actually Kill You, Lost baby hobbit, M/M, Survival Skills, chosen family, mentions of abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-16
Updated: 2018-09-11
Packaged: 2019-04-01 01:11:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 23,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13987236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cody_Thomas/pseuds/Cody_Thomas
Summary: Bilbo Baggins gets lost when he's six. He is rescued and then adopted by giant Eagles, a bear shapeshifter, and a wizard who loves animals. But even though he loves his new family very much, there is a still part of him inside that wants to find his lost home. Unfortunately that will take a far longer time than he realizes.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Child of the Earth and Sky](https://archiveofourown.org/works/731004) by [orphan_account](https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account). 



> Welcome to the thing I started because Child Of The Earth And Sky went and gave me some ideas. Rather angsty ideas, because this is me we are talking about after all. But it will all have a happy ending eventually. Unfortunately the original author orphaned the work and seems to have left the fandom, so I can't really dedicate this work to them as well, and I doubt that they will ever see it, but if they do wander this way I hope they know they have inspired others, and I am eternally grateful that they were generous enough to leave their work up for the rest of us to read and enjoy.
> 
> Dedicated with eternal luv to Uvecheri, without whom most of my ideas would likely never take off.

Some of Bilbo's earliest memories were of fear and pain. He and his parents had been traveling through the mountains and had been attacked by bandits on the road. They hadn't had more than a few coins, and nothing of any value. Bungo had hoped that would mean they'd leave his family alone, but they didn’t. Instead they had beaten Bungo and left him for dead on the side of the road. Belladonna and Bilbo were taken captive, bound and handed over to slavers for a price, then shoved into the back of a filthy wagon with a cage over the top of it that had four other prisoners inside, all of them Men.

The slavers hurt his mother constantly, he'd been too young to truly understand it at the time, but he had always been angry about it. Later when he was old enough, he'd wanted to commit murder, but by then it was far too late. They had sold his mother in a human town somewhere in those horrible lands, they'd had to chain her in irons to try and keep her separated from her son. Bilbo had fought valiantly, but he'd been too young, too small, too weak to do anything more than scream and cry and try to reach through the bars for her. His mother had begged and pleaded for them to stay together, she'd do anything, but the one who had bought her had ignored her as if she wasn't even there. Bilbo had never felt so useless.

The slave wagon had moved on, now just him and two others, who ignored him and took no pity on him or his poor mother. He hated men. He counted the towns they had passed on the road, hoping to remember how far back his mother was. The cart had rumbled through the mountains dangerously close to the edge, and Bilbo tried his hardest to stay hunkered down and away from the drop. It was cold too, and they didn't give them more than one blanket, and the other two weren't willing to share it with him. For two weeks all he can remember is the fear and the cold. He lost his appetite even though they were barely fed, and he grew wan and sick. He had heard his captors saying how he wasn't going to make it, that they should just toss him over the cliff and be done with it. Bilbo had been too ill to care.

But that night, more bad things happened, but in a way, it was good luck for him. One of the captors had wanted to make camp, another had a bad feeling and wished to press on. They fought about it, and finally one of them stabbed the other. This turned out to be a bad move, because something caught the smell of blood on the wind. Then there were howls in all directions, howls that sank through his skin and chilled his bones far more than the cold mountain wind did. Giant dog monsters had attacked the camp, he couldn't really be sure, but they were huge and terrifying. They killed the horses and all four of the remaining men, rent them to pieces, and what's worse, some of the monsters had other monsters riding them, ones with weapons and who walked and spoke as if they were people. Bilbo had been truly terrified, because they had come to the wagon as well, and set their huge paws on the bars, pushing and shaking and tearing at the wooden bottom trying to get to their dinner.

By chance, utter chance, when the wagon tipped over he had been covered by the one blanket they had been given and he tucked himself into the smallest ball he could and did what his mother had always told him to do when he was scared and no one was looking at him, to make himself invisible by thinking with all his might: 'I'm not here, you don't see me, you won't find me, smell me, or notice me at all. I am a bit of shadow, a rock, a log, of absolutely no importance to you or anyone.' over and over again and staying as small, still, and quiet as he could, clenching his teeth until they hurt so he wouldn't scream. It wasn't easy with the monsters tearing through the wagon, grabbing the two shouting people and hearing the screams and the death and everyone getting eaten, but it was better than being eaten himself, and he must have managed to be invisible because no one paid the little lump of blanket in the corner of the overturned wagon any mind at all.

Once the monsters had feasted their fill, it grew very quiet, but Bilbo didn't know if that meant they had gone or were just waiting for him to come out of hiding. He couldn't see the camp, and he wasn't about to let them trick him after what they had done to the others. He stayed small, silent, and invisible right where he was. Eventually, even though he was so very scared, he was still ill and the quiet camp and the warmth of the thick blanket lulled him to sleep. Perhaps he'd only slept one night, or he could have slept several days, he didn't know. But when he woke up it was to weak daylight. He crawled out of the wrecked wagon, there was a light coating of snow over the whole camp, he was shivering, and there wasn't a track in sight.

There wasn't much left of the bodies, mostly torn and bloody clothes, and bones that had been stripped all but bare. There was still a bag of food, and a pack of the mens' clothes. He was only six, but he knew enough to get warm when he was cold and to eat when he was hungry. He folded the legs of the pants up and down so it was three layers thick and fit his legs, and stitched them into place with a needle and thread he'd found in the debris of the camp. They were far too big around the waist, so he tied them there with a piece of rope. He did the same with the sleeves of a jacket, and sewed the bottom half under all the way to the arms and stitched it there as best he could, then took a belt that was only slightly chewed and belted the lot around himself tightly twice. It was immediately warmer.

His toes were dreadfully cold, so he tried to wrap his feet with torn cloth and sturdy leather that was too thick for him to cut properly, so it bunched weird, but they wouldn't stay on right. Then he saw the men's boots. He was still little, so his feet weren't very broad yet, and he tried all of their shoes, hoping one pair would fit. The one who had the smallest feet were still far too big for him, and were shoes instead of the nice warm fur lined boots one of the men had owned, but with his toes wrapped in layers of cloth they stayed on well enough, and then he could wear the boots if he slipped the shoes inside them and rolled the top of the boots down so the tops weren't over his knees. Walking in shoes was hard to get used to, especially with the toes of the boots being so much longer than his own. They made him slower and more clumsy, but his feet were warm at least.

There was a thick cloak with a hood that had been torn by the dog monsters at the bottom half of it, but when he cut off the bad parts it was just the right length for him, even if it could have wrapped around him twice. he put the blanket from the wagon on over that, and he stitched the big pieces from what he'd cut off of the cloak into sorta mittens so his fingers didn't freeze. He took everything he could carry. All of the food and a waterskin that was full but halfway frozen, he carried those in a side satchel. Rope, a wooden bowl, mug, utensils, another thick wool blanket, the needle and thread, an empty waterskin, and the fire starter went into a little pack that he could wear on his back under the cloak.

There were two big knives that he didn't know how to use, but figured they were better than nothing if the monsters came back.He then collected every single coin from the camp; gold, silver, copper, brass, and tin alike, and put them in different places like he'd seen the men doing so no one could take all of it. He didn't know much about money, but he knew that gold was the most valuable, and silver after that, so that's what he hid piece by piece in his clothes, sewing small pouches into place in his layers to hold and hide them so they couldn't be lost or easily taken. There were a lot of coins because they had sold a lot of people, but the monsters hadn't been interested in money. He knew he would need it if he found a town though, so it was worth taking. The copper coins he put in a little pouch and hid in his inside jacket pocket. The brass and tin he tied on his belt and hidden by his cloak. Men were not to be trusted, even the slave traders had known that.

He wanted to take more, but he was too little to carry it, and he was already slowed down a lot by the big boots, the thickly folded cloth, the full packs, and the heavy coins. He headed back the way they had come from, there had been a town at the bottom of the mountain, and if he could just get there, he could buy a pony and a map and go get his mother who was six towns away. He'd give the man all of his coins, which was a lot more than he had paid for her, and he'd let her go, because men were greedy and liked money more than people. And if he wouldn't let her go, then Bilbo would stick his knife into him and rescue his mother and they could try and find his dad together before going home to the Shire and never leaving it again. At least that had been the plan.

The sky was so thick with dark grey clouds that he cast no shadow and had no idea what time it was, he couldn't even see the outline of the sun, and he didn't know how long he walked. At first nothing much happened, but he knew he wasn't making very good time. Bilbo was very hungry, and still sick, but stopping wasn't a good idea either, and eating too much would make him ill, and he couldn't buy more food until he got to the bottom of the mountain, so it wouldn’t do to waste it. So he took a big thick chunk of dried meat, and he stuck it in his mouth like a toffee, and just sucked on it and chewed it like candy for as long as he could until the hunger pains and nausea went away, and he wasn't worried about getting sick and accidentally wasting his food anymore. He chewed a couple more small pieces of meat on the way until he was feeling much better. It was lonely and very quiet on the road aside from the clump of his feet, and the crunch of the snow, and the occasional bird or whisper of wind. If his parents were there they would have been singing a traveling song or a walking song, but they weren't there, Bilbo had to rescue them, and the dog monsters and the other monsters might still be nearby, so he had to be quiet. And he tried, he really did, but he wasn't quiet enough.

Either the clouds were getting thicker or it was starting to get dark when he heard the howling dog monsters again, and he ducked to the side of the cliff and over the side onto a tiny ledge and wedged himself as far down between some rocks and the side as he could and covered himself with the hood and made himself small and tried with all his might to be invisible, and prayed that they would go away and pass him by.

He wasn't as lucky this time, mostly because he had forgotten to do one simple thing that his mother had always done while they traveled through snow, to brush away their tracks with a branch. He was hauled back over the side by one of the people shaped monsters, who were laughing and probably deciding on the best way to kill him and eat him, when suddenly there was a piercing shriek, followed by another, and another. It sounded like the hawks and eagles that lived around the Shire, but a thousand times louder and bigger. Giant wings filled the air, they swooped and dove for the monsters, ripping them apart, tossing them over the cliff, gouging into flesh with talons as big as he was and beaks that could have swallowed him whole. He screamed in fright as the monsters dropped him and he ran as best he could, which wasn't anywhere near good enough because one of the birds grabbed him in it's claws and took off up into the sky. He was scared to death of being eaten, and scared of falling, and just terrified in general, and begging the giant bird not to kill him please, he just wanted to go home, he just wanted his mother, he wouldn't even make a mouthful, and to just please let him go.

But the eagle didn't understand him, they flew onwards into what was now most definitely night, and to a sheer cliff face that was so high up that the river in the valley below looked like a thread, and they were only halfway up the side. He was let go into a giant nest with two smaller birds inside it, not fully balls of fluff, but still not fully grown, and they were still huge compared to him. He was terrified that he was to be dinner for the monster bird's babies, but then a second eagle, dark brownish red throughout, landed and dropped a dead deer into the nest, that the chicks tore into with obvious delight. The parent eagle that had brought him here, brownish grey with a white breast and dark speckles on it, tore off a deer leg and offered it to him, and he tried to explain that he needed fire, but it didn't seem to understand him. Eventually he gave the leg to one of the other chicks and ate a turnip and an apple from his satchel.

The chicks then hedged him in on either side and settled down to sleep and one of the eagles, their mother he thought, the one who had brought him here, settled into the nest and tucked the three of them under her wing, the other eagle settled in beside her, protecting them on both sides. It was warm, nearly stifling with all of the layers he already had on, and there was still blood on the branches not too far away, and the nest was quite pokey in a lot of places, but the chicks were soft, and the chirruping sound the birds made was quite soothing now that he was mostly sure they didn't want to eat him, and he was much too high and far away for the monster dogs and the other monsters to get him, and so he once more fell asleep.

It was a good thing he was in the nest, poking and bloodied branches aside, because when he woke up and looked out of the nest, there was nothing but howling white as far as the eye could see, which was about a handspan away from his face really. The blizzard was so thick and fast that the wind almost sounded like it was howling, and the snow seemed to be coming in sideways and whipped the snow into his face so hard that it stung. The mama eagle nudged him back under her wing with her beak, and it was then he came to the conclusion that the bird has decided he was a chick and had adopted him. Even though it was nice to be rescued, he didn't want to be a bird. He wanted his mother, his real mother who was still being held prisoner by those dreadful men.

Bilbo curled into the big mama eagles' side and he just cried and sobbed and cried even more, it didn't matter if he was loud now, the wind stole all of the sounds anyway. The eagle chirruped at him and he told her the whole story of what had happened even though she most likely couldn't understand him. But she nudged him with her beak and pulled him close beside her, and he didn't protest it even though his face was all hot and his eyes were itchy and puffy now. He stayed there all day and sang traveling songs to the chicks, who chirruped at him and played a strange nudging game that he couldn't quite work out the rules to.

About mid day the winds and the snows stopped for awhile and the sun broke through the clouds. The bigger eagle who he thought was the papa, screeched at him and held out a wing. Bilbo didn't understand, and the eagle screeched again, and the mother eagle nudged him forward with her beak and Bilbo kind of got the idea he was supposed to climb on, but Bilbo ducked as far as he could under the mother bird. This didn't help him when the papa eagle merely grabbed him in one foot and then dove off the side of the nest instead. They were plummeting down, down, down to his certain death, and then they were flying again, but Bilbo was still screaming regardless. 

The Eagle landed him on the bank of the river, and Bilbo thought he might be letting him go, but the eagle was directly behind him, and he couldn't go anywhere but to the water. Drowning him was rather pointless, so Bilbo figured he was there for a drink maybe. He filled up his waterskins and even though it was freezing cold, he stripped down and washed his bottom layer out fully, because his mother would scold him to no end if he went about smelling like he did right now. He soaked them well and then set them out in the snow to freeze. In the winter, letting wet things freeze for awhile was the best way to make them stop smelling if you didn't have any soap with you. Let it freeze, then beat off the ice, soak again and repeat. That's what his father had taught him. 

Since he was already bare he scrubbed himself as best he could with coarse sand and river rocks until he didn’t feel quite so icky. The cold water actually felt a bit refreshing now that his fever was gone. Afterwards Bilbo dried off with his blanket and just put the mens' clothing back on, though it too could use a good washing. Afterwards he beat his now frozen things against a rock until they were pliable again and wrapped them up in the blanket, hoping he could lay them out in the nest and they would dry the rest of the way.

The Eagle once more lay down and extended a wing to Bilbo to help him climb up, and though Bilbo was scared of falling off, he really didn't want to be grabbed in those scary looking talons again. He apologized if he accidentally pulled any feathers, and then he was holding on for dear life as the eagle took off and swooped them up into the sky again. Some of the other eagles on the cliff face were taking the lull in the storm to stretch their wings too. They circled the valley up up up until even they were tiny dots against the clouds. Bilbo was scared at first but somehow he knew the eagle wasn't going to let him fall. The view was beautiful, if scary, and as he looked across the huge mountains, he wondered just how far away had they flown, and where his mother was now. He hoped she was warm, and had enough food, and that someone nice had found his father and even now he was trying to find them. 

There was another deer waiting for them when they got back, and the mother eagle had already torn off a hind leg for him. But now, on the ledge away from the nest, against the cliff wall, was an empty half ring of rocks, a pile of sticks and branches, and two half rotted tree trunks that had been set there in a 'v' shape to protect a fire from the winds, or from spreading. Bilbo smiled and thanked her, she'd understood his need for fire even though they didn't speak the same language. He'd never built a fire on his own before, but he'd watched his parents do it enough times that he was certain he could. He took a handful of downy fluff and grass from the bottom of the nest and used a small chunk of oil soaked sawdust cake that had been packed in the firestarter kit, and worked out how to use the flint and steel, and while getting it to spark was harder than it looked, once he did the sparks soon caught and he got a little flame going.

Bilbo spent the afternoon roasting a venison leg, and drying out strips of it to save for later. His clothes he laid out on the stone nearest the fire to dry them out. An eagle from another nest brought him a shiny helmet with a visor that had been made for one of the big folk. He washed it out, threaded a branch through the chin guard and made it into a cooking pot. Other eagles brought him 'useful things' they had found and collected over the years, or more dry wood, or small rocks throughout the afternoon, until he had a proper fire pit tucked in the lee of the cliff wall, as well as a seating area and wind breaker made of the two logs, a proper venison stew cooking, complete with vegetables even if he didn't have any seasonings, and what meat he couldn't eat right then drying on skewers beside the fire. He felt accomplished, and he knew his parents would have been proud of him.

The chicks were quite curious as to what all he was doing, and he offered them the leftovers of the stew, but they didn't seem to care for it. The hours passed and the fire banked and he remembered how his father used to bury a fire or use an ember pot so he could start it again easier later on. He didn't have anything to do that with now since his repurposed helmet pot didn't have a lid. He piled the embers up as high as he could, scraping them together with a spear one of the eagles had given him, and hoped that the middle would stay hot until tomorrow, then came back to the nest when the mother eagle chirruped at him, as a sharp cry rang out across the cliffside. He tucked in for the night among the two chicks who he was beginning to call Maple and Larkspur, since he didn't know what else to call them, and didn't even know if they were girls or boys, but those names could be used for either.

The storm came back that night, and it didn't let up for two whole days. Bilbo huddled in the nest warm but rather bored unless he had to crawl out to relieve himself, and he missed his mother's singing, and his father's stories, and pies, and seven meals a day, and his soft bed. But he wasn't ungrateful because the eagles had saved him and sheltered him from the storms and fed him and even had a way to give him fire, so he was nothing but thankful to them, but he was also homesick and scared at what was to become of him, and worried for his parents, and he missed talking to people.

When the blizzard finally died out their whole ledge was covered in snow deeper than Bilbo was tall. His fire was long cold, and the meat had frozen halfway through drying, but hadn't spoiled. The eagles brushed most of the snow off the ledge with their wings, the papa eagle even held tight to the ledge and beat his wings fiercely to blow it out of the area where Bilbo's fire pit was. The wood was wet on the tops, but the middle wood was dry enough to burn. And when the papa eagle took him, his water skins, cooking pot, and his dirty dishes down to clean up, get more water, and to let him stretch as best he could, he saw that a group of fish had been frozen in the ice of the river, and the eagle had no trouble breaking them out for him in one big block of ice that he carried back up to the nest in his claws. Bilbo loved fish and his papa had taught him how to prepare them when he was barely big enough to walk. He used one of the big knives to chip the ice away from the fish. He only took out one so he didn't have to worry about the rest spoiling if the sun decided to start shining again, and he cleaned it and cooked it on a stick over the fire. This time the chicks were more than willing to help him clean up whatever he was discarding. Bilbo figured it had taken him awhile to like vegetables too, and they'd know better when they were older.

It was a week later and he was thawing his latest batch of cleaned clothes, getting them toasty warm before putting them back on, when one of the eagles that he hadn't seen before, pale brown that was nearly golden and white under his wings, but could tell by his size was quite young, brought him something that scared him at first. It was a skeleton, or at least, the top half of one, that was still dressed in dirty clothes, covered with dried mud, and the pockets and seams had a bunch of dirt and gravel wedged and stuffed in them, but then he realized, it was the huge traveling pack strapped to the skeleton the eagle was trying to give him, not the skeleton itself. They just hadn't been able to get all the bones off since it had been strapped in so well.

The pack was much bigger than he was, and weighed even more. It was covered in dried mud too, but the inside was still good, and this pack was much better stocked than the one he had packed after the monster attack, and he thanked the eagle who had brought it to him quite sincerely and even hugged him as close to the eagle's middle as he could reach, which was his leg really. But the eagle seemed to understand and bumped him lightly with his beak, before turning and taking off again.

This pack had a nice thick bedroll stuffed with padding and a lanolin treated canvas bottom. Wrapped inside of it to keep it dry was an oilskin cloak wrapped around a blanket, a pair of long woolen underwear, trousers, and a shirt that were much closer to his size, well, his parents' size really, but still far closer than a man's size was, a beaver hat with ear covers that was too big but kept his ears warm, and a good sturdy pair of fur lined boots stuffed with two pairs of thick woolen socks, a pair of gloves, a knitted cap, a scarf, and a fleece lined pair of leather mittens. Bilbo was thrilled that they fit so much better than the ones he was currently wearing. Strapped to the outside was a bunch of rope and hooks, a shovel, a pick, two axes, a really good hunting knife, and a small cast iron cook pot with a hinged lid that hooked shut. Inside the pot was a tiny cast iron frying pan with a detachable handle, an ember box, wooden spoons, round cutting board, bowl and mug, a set of cooking knives, and a set of metal utensils.

Inside of the pack there was a smaller pack filled with a lot of food. Easily enough to last him a month or two. Two types of cram, little sacks of beans, rice, lentils, nuts, oats, and spelt that were still good, dried meat and fish, cooked sausages packed in lard, a large tin with three kinds of portable soup, small cheeses dipped in wax, slices of potatoes, beets, carrots, turnips, parsnips, and mushrooms that had all been carefully dried and packed in salt. There were packages of dried fruit slices: oranges, lemons, limes, apples, plantains, apricots, pears, raisins, and dates, even fruit leather, crystalized honey, and rock sugar. There was even a tin of salt, a few boxes of herbs, spices, and mixed seasonings, and a large tin of real tea with a little pouch of muslin to steep it with.

Once he got past the pack of food he saw some inside pockets which had a pipe that was broken into pieces now, a pouch of pipeweed, and a little glazed clay jug of something alcoholic that he couldn't use, and his mother would have paddled his bottom purple if he ever even thought about trying at his age, so he set them aside to get rid of, but vowed to keep the jug after he washed it out, he could use it to steep the tea. He found three bars of soap, a whetstone and oil, a set of carving tools, firestarter sticks, a tinderbox, flint and steel, a pack of playing cards, a large pouch of coins, and another of gems, and then there were three pouches of rocks tucked into a wooden tube.

That Bilbo just didn't understand, why would the person have been keeping rocks? Though one pack of the stones was really pretty, they had lines of something smooth and shiny silverish white in it, and were much lighter than he thought it would be. The rest of the pack had a book filled with pictures including a few people, but the written symbols he didn't understand, and a bunch of parchments with maps and more drawings and strange words were rolled up and packed into another wooden tube. There's a second book that only had a few pages filled, and he wants to write down his story in it, even though he doesn't really know how to write very well yet. And at the bottom of the pack were three wooden boxes.

The first was rather thin, and filled with parchment on top, then tucked into a little compartment below it were charcoal sticks, a brass dip pen, and a brass pot of powdered ink, wax sticks, and seal. The second box was far more fancy, made of dark walnut, with metal tapped on the corners to protect them, and inlayed into a strange seal on the top. There's a small square mirror set into the inside of the lid, and it had small scissors, a brush, comb, and a little bottle of sweet smelling oil packed carefully into their own padded spots, and a compartment with a lid on the right hand side that had a pouch with many different beads in it.

The last box was the biggest of the three and was actually three boxes stacked and tied together. It was also the only one that seemed to have any damage to it, the side corner was bashed in pretty well, and the bottom looked like it would have fallen apart completely if it hadn't been tied together. The top layer had dried herbs bundled in individual pouches and little pots of ointments, but he couldn't understand the symbols written on the outside of them. There was a small stone mortar and pestle packed in the middle of them. The second layer was filled with tiny glass bottles standing upright in their own padded slots, and only one of them had been broken, but again, he couldn't read the writing on them. And the third layer finally let him figure out what the box was. There was a bunch of rolled bandages, cotton wool, three curved needles sitting in a stoppered phial of something clear, a roll of stiff stitching thread, little knives, and a small saw. It was a medical kit, which would have done him a lot more good if he could tell what the medicines were or knew what they were for, but all in all he had really lucked out, he would be much more comfortable now and definitely less hungry.

The skeleton still had a bit of skin on him, and there was a dark brownish black beard and a bunch of smaller braids woven back and down, ending in a thick braid of hair on the skull's head. It was the only part of the skeleton he could spare once the chicks began playing with the bones and pulled it all apart. The head was the more interesting thing anyway, there were a bunch of shiny beads in the beard and braid, and the hair was thick and coarse like straw, even if it was all caked in dried mud and stones. His mama would have never let him have his hair like that, so the next day he took the skull and the brush and the dirty clothes down to clean them up, and a bar of soap for himself. He undid the braids and carefully took out all of the beads, and clasps, which there were quite a few, and put them in a pouch of their own. Then he washed off the mud, and brushed it all out and the hair was really long, so it took awhile to dry, especially with it being cold.

He kept the skull so he could brush the hair the way his mama had used to do for him, and as curious as the chicks were, they didn't ever try and take the skull from him. He practiced braiding, just for something to do, but he wasn't very good at it at first, and the weather didn't do the skull any favors. The hair all came off the skull one day in one big piece, but he liked it so much he didn't want to waste it, so he took the scissors and cut off the bits that had the skin on them, then wove it and braided it exactly the way his mother had made straw and corn dollies. It took him a few tries to get it right, but he really didn't have anything else to do, and he also figured out how to give it an extra big braid in the back as actual hair. He made it a little jacket and trousers from a few scraps of cloth and sewed two tiny round silver beads onto it for eyes, and unraveled a bit of thread from a spare red scrap that he stitched into a mouth. It looked just like his mama in her traveling clothes. He made a rag doll for his papa since he was out of hair, and he stuffed it with scraps and found that some of the down in the nest was the same golden color as his papa's hair, and it took him a long time to figure out how to get the feathers to stay the way he wanted them to. Having dolls of his parents was comforting, but it made him miss them very much too.

What he could clean of the muddied shirt and coat wasn't much use as clothes any more once he was done washing them, so he closed the holes and made them into a cushion to protect him from the poking branches of the nest, and filled it with the scraps he couldn't use any more, and soft eagle down from around the nest. It wasn't the prettiest cushion, but it did the trick.

He'd been with the eagles almost a month, as his stick with the marks on it told him, when one morning there was a lot of screeching and calling and many eagles circling round and round. A huge eagle twice the size of any other eagle he had seen, with dark brown, nearly black feathers, alighted on the ledge and stared at him critically in that one eyed sideways way that eagles have.

“Hello little one, I am Gwaihir, Lord of this nesting ground. Who are you?” The giant eagle chirruped and screeched and came close as though to sniff him.

Bilbo was more than a bit startled that an eagle could speak like a person, but he was also very grateful for it. “I-I'm B-Bilbo Baggins, Sir. We were traveling, and men beat my papa, and they hurt my mama and sold her in some awful town six towns back from where you found me, and the giant dogs and monsters tried to eat me, so I'm really glad you saved me, but I need to save her!”

“I'm afraid that it will have to wait until the spring thaw Bilbo Baggins. The snows will be thick and the winter storms are going to be too rough to travel very far away from our valley this year. What manner of creature are you? A Man, an Elf, or a Dwarf?”

“I'm not a man! I hate men, they hurt my mama and papa! I'm a Hobbit, from the Shire!”

“Men can indeed be treacherous and cruel. It's good you are not a man, we are not well fond of most of them either. I've never heard of a hobbit, or the Shire, and I have lived on this earth for more years than I can count. Your ears are like an elf, but you are small like a dwarf. Do hobbits perhaps have one of each parent then?”

“No? Both of my parents are hobbits.”

“Hmmm do you live forever?”

“No, not that I know of.”

“Do you prefer the ground, the water, or the trees to live in?”

“Hobbits like to live in the ground, and most of us are scared of deep water, never heard of a hobbit living in a tree, though until me, I don't think we lived on cliffs either.”

“Hmm. Then you are a dwarf young one.”

“No, dwarves are very different from hobbits. They wear shoes and are very hairy and know nothing about gardens. I'm not a dwarf, I'm a hobbit.”

“Well unless there is some other name that your race is known by, I'm afraid the only ground dwellers I know of are Dwarves.”

“People sometimes call us Halflings, but my mother didn't like it much, says we aren't half of anything.”

“Ahhh, now Halflings I have heard of, though it was very long ago, when they dwelled in the lands south of here. But your people left this part of the world more than an age ago. Where they have gone no one now knows, their magic keeps them and their lands well hidden from prying eyes. I doubt I could help you find it, unless of course, you know exactly where it is?”

Bilbo shook his head and tried to blink back tears. He didn't even know where he was NOW let alone where the Shire might be, they had been traveling for two years, the Shire could be anywhere, he'd never seen a map, his parents had known where they were going, he didn't.

“Well then the dwarves would be your closest kin, since they also live under the earth. Once the spring thaw comes we shall take you to them, and they should be able to help you find your family and aid them, Dwarves range all over Arda, one of them is bound to know where your Shire home is. Until then you will stay with us and we will care for you as best we can. Your Nest Father is known as Meneldor, and your Nest Mother is his mate Aduialhwest, your Nest Sister is Nimsûl, and your Nest Brother is Rhîwroval.”

Each of the birds bowed their heads a bit in turn. And Bilbo smiled and bowed back, he knew his manners, and the eagles had been quite kind to him.

“What does your name mean little one, so that I may translate it to my kin properly?”

“I-I don't know, but my mum always said she hoped I would grow to be as sharp and keen as my name.”

“That won't do. I will think of a proper name for you and we shall call you that. One must have a proper name with meaning after all. I will consult the winds and the stars and see what suits you best.” and without another word the eagle flew away.

Bilbo was confused, but didn't wish to argue the point, and it wasn't worth arguing about anyway. He spent the rest of the afternoon practicing how to pronounce his adopted family's names, and had the most success with his nest siblings. Gwaihir returned two days later and declared Bilbo was now Galadhên, or Sunlight Child, and Bilbo thought it sounded rather nice.

He spent the winter with the eagles, and discovered that Landroval, (Gwaihir's younger brother, colored with feathers that were a dark brown that shone like burned copper in the sunlight, and a white breast), who visited the day after Bilbo had been dubbed Galadhên, also spoke Westeron, and was far more willing to visit for extended periods of time with a young hobbit who had many questions but nearly no answers. Bilbo was quite willing to fly with Meneldor for the essential things like bathing, laundry, food collecting, and dishes, but Meneldor never went further than the valley below unless he was hunting for his family. Landroval on the other hand, flew for the sheer joy of it. He did not have a mate or a nest with eggs or chicks to tend, and like his Brother, his wingspan was so great that the strong winter winds did not bother him like it could many of the others, so he began coming by almost daily to talk to Bilbo and play with him. And unlike the king, he understood Bilbo's desperate need to find and help his family. On clear days they flew away from the Eyrie entirely, back towards where Bilbo had been found. They tried to trace six towns back from it, but the path split first in two then in thirds, and each of those split again at least once. There was a whole bunch of places his mother could have been taken to, and Bilbo couldn't remember what turns they had taken because he had been too sick and scared, and feared he would need to search each one in order to find her.

A few times Landroval even dropped Bilbo off close to a little town right near dawn with a couple of his coins in hand and one of his empty packs so he could go to a shop for something he needed, more thread and cloth, a thick warg skin pelt once the snows turned into sleet and ice and he needed to stay warmer, or to buy food beyond the meat the eagles regularly provided. They never went to the same place twice, so that people wouldn't remember him, and ask the wrong sorts of questions if they continually saw him without any hint of an adult nearby. He was much too small to be considered able to manage on his own if people thought him a human child, and a dwarf child out on their own was just plain unheard of, so Bilbo learned quite quickly that if he acted younger than he was, and like his mother was just a stall or two down, and he was getting to act older by helping to buy a couple of things 'on his own', most of the shopkeepers found it adorable. Especially if he told them “Mama said to get...” while holding up a very small coin or two. A few of them even slipped him a sweet or a treat for being such a good helper.

It was just at the end of one such trip, the last one that Landroval said they would be able to make because the storms were going to set in in earnest, so he had brought every pack to fill as much as he could and they stopped in five separate towns so he wouldn't raise suspicion. In the last one he had loaded the last pack with oats, cornmeal, honey, bacon, apples, oranges, potatoes, onions, garlic, tea, and more herbs and spices, and had bought himself four meat pies as a treat, when he ran into a pair of rangers.

“And where is a little thing like you off to with so much food all by yourself? Where are your parents?”

“My mama told me not to talk to strangers, I'm bigger than I look, and I'm going home now. Excuse me.”

“Wait a minute we've been patrolling this town for ten years now, and I have never seen you, you can't possibly live around here without us knowing who your family is. Where are your parents, who are you staying with?”

By now Bilbo was getting very scared. He didn't trust these men, and they kept asking things that were none of their business. “I came from another town and I'm staying with my other family for the winter, and I really need to go now.”

“Kid, just tell us their name, you shouldn't be wandering alone out here on your own, it's not safe.”

“No. I don't have to tell you anything about me. I don't know you, and it's none of your business anyway. I'm not hurt, I'm not in trouble, I am NOT alone, and I felt perfectly safe until YOU showed up. I don't like Men who try to bully people into doing things just because they're bigger than them. Leave me alone!”

“Now look here dwarf-” but Bilbo was done listening to anything they had to say. He bolted for the small patch of woods where Landroval was waiting, but he was slowed down considerably by his heavily laden pack. The rangers had given chase and one had just grabbed his pack and hauled him backwards right off his feet, and that fear that he had been trying so hard to fight back swallowed him up whole and he screamed. “LANDROVAL!!!”

Not even two seconds later the shrill, blood chilling cry of an angered predator pierced through the nearby patch of woods, and Landroval charged out, wings flaring, eyes narrowed, beak open and hungry for the flesh of those who would dare to harm his charge. The Rangers screamed and toppled over one another in their haste to get away, while Bilbo was bolting towards his winged protector as fast as his legs could carry him. Landroval stepped between Bilbo and the rangers and screamed at them again to make sure they stayed back, while Bilbo put a few spilled things back in his pack. Once he knew the Men would stay back, Landroval gently nudged Bilbo with his beak before lowering one wing so Bilbo could climb on. They were airborne only seconds later and winging back towards the Eyrie.

”Why do you fear them so much Galadhên?” Landroval queried, trying to calm Bilbo's trembling by winging in lazy circles so he could calm down.

“They're Men. Men hurt my parents, Men sold my mama. Hobbits and Elves and Dwarves would never do that. Men are not to be trusted. I'm sorry you had to save me.”

“It's no matter, adults are supposed to protect children, even if they are not their own. It was for the human's sake I stayed hidden, not my own, but it doesn't matter if they know I am there or not, it would take skill most do not possess to take me down.”

As his nest mates became a second family, so Landroval became his friend. The winter was very harsh, just as Gwaihir had said it would be, and they couldn't leave further than the valley below for the rest of Blotmath and halfway through Foreyule. In that time he occasionally met other eagles who could speak. Apparently all of them could understand Westeron, but very few had found reason to learn to speak it.

The winter's grip was very tight, the storms raged all the way through Rethe and at one point he was worried about running out of wood so that he could melt more snow for water. It was a very harsh time, and Bilbo learned how to ration his food to the limit. The Eagles didn't celebrate Yule anymore than any other day of the year, so Bilbo didn't feel too badly about not making them presents, and what gift would be useful to an eagle anyway? He spent his time in the nest curled in warm feathers, and trying to teach his nest siblings all the words he could think of, but they only managed one or two. From them he learned five words of the Eagles' language through trial and error: greetings, food, water, hide, and safe. His name in the Eagle's tongue was a chirpy whistling thing that he couldn't manage for months, but he managed Meneldor and Nimsûl right before Yule, Rhîwroval three days later, and Aduialhwest his tongue mangled to pieces for at least another week. He was grateful they never lost patience with him.

When spring finally came however, there were no dwarves in any of the towns no matter how long they searched. The eagles knew of a few Dwarven strongholds, they were closest to Moria, which had long been abandoned, there was Erebor directly to the East, and the Iron hills further than that, but they were too far away for a short trip and it wasn't safe to rest anywhere over the Greenwood these days. There were the Broadbeam lands much too far to the South, and they didn't exactly know where to the south they even were, and Gwaihir remembered that there were once rumors of some sort of settlement of dwarves to the north hidden in small groups up in the hills, but he didn't know if they were true.

“Well young Galadhên, it seems you will just have to wait until we can find some dwarves in the towns who know where your Shire is, since you do not wish to live among Men, though we could carry you to the Elves as well, though Lorien in not hugely welcome to outsiders, you are small enough they would know you are no threat.”

While at one point Bilbo would have delighted to have a chance to see elves up close, he'd had his fill of the Big Folk for a while and declined. And so it was that Bilbo was still with his adopted family when he saw his first courtship flight. Two young eagles were the only ones to take wing, and soar up higher and higher into the sky. They swooped around each other fast, and as close as they could, pinion feathers nearly touching. They dipped and dove and swung tight circles through the air, until they were matching each other move for move, a graceful and elegant dance that had Bilbo holding his breath. They dove towards the ground together, then pulled up, banking hard back up into the clouds. And finally circling tighter and tighter together, they grabbed each others' talons, and they plummeted towards the ground like a stone, twirling and spinning, cartwheeling out of control, and Bilbo was absolutely terrified at seeing it, until at the last possible moment before hitting the ground they released each other and soared back up into the sky. Bilbo breathed again as the two then settled on a nearby ledge, to the calls of several other eagles.

“What do you think?” Landroval asked from beside him.

“It's beautiful, but scary.”

“It's the Flight of Unity. It is how we choose a worthy mate and ensure we have the strongest chicks. If you choose wrong you will not be able to complete the dive, you will hit the ground. We begin our lives together with a show of great trust, to know that our heartmate will protect us as much as we will protect them.”

“Why don't you have a mate Landroval?”

“I did, once, nearly an age ago. Her name was Laegecthel. She died in battle, and it was a worthy death for one as fierce and brave as she. We never had chicks though. An Eagle mates for life Galadhên, and even though her life is over, I have not wished to take the talons of another. I may never wish to.”

“Sounds lonely. Mom always says we shouldn't be lonely, it's not good for the health.”

“How can I be lonely Galadhên, when I have you as a companion and friend?”

“M-me? But I'm just a hobbit!”

“You are strong and brave beyond your years, quick and clever and very kind hearted. Anyone should be proud to have such a friend.”

“I-I'm proud to have you as a friend Landroval.”

“Would you like to fly? There's a lake nearby that has finally become unclogged from ice. You might be able to go fishing. They are sure to be hungry after such a long winter.”

“I'd like that.”

The rest of that spring he watched every courting dance with rapt attention, holding his breath and praying for their safety as they fell through the sky. He hoped one day he'd love someone who would trust him just as much.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo continues to grow up and is introduced to someone new, Beorn, and Beorn's friend Radagast.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> apologies for the 6 month wait, I hope this 14k chapter makes up for it. I luvs you all, I SWEAR!

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Chapter 2

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Though they were now learning how to fly, Nimsûl and Rhîwroval still snuggled against either side of Bilbo at night, as well as for naps, and he still often sought shelter under Aduialhwest’s wing, where she liked to preen his hair as if they were unruly feathers, something that he found very soothing, and enjoyed without even a hint of protest. Bilbo began to fly with Aduialhwest in the mornings, now that she wasn’t needed to tend the chicks as much. Together they winged over mountain and forest and meadow near every day. It became a special time between them, a long leisurely flight, often ending with a bath in a clear mountain lake, maybe even her spooking fish towards the net he would cast into the shallows. Almost every morning until mid-morning, she learned bits of Westron from him, while she taught him more and more of the Eagle tongue now that he was understanding it rather well. It became a time very special to Bilbo that he treasured.

As they now grew stronger with their wings, Bilbo helped his nest brother and sister grow stronger at hunting while flying by letting them learn to glide and fly with him in their talons for short flights as if he were prey, until they tired. He caught much of his own meat that year, having finally figured out how to snare rabbits, squirrels, and other small game down in the valley that he could eat quickly on his own. He even managed to catch a wild boar with Landroval’s help that summer, his friend refusing to take more than a leg in thanks, though he would have more than happily shared half with him. The dried meat lasted him well into winter, and the huge tusks fetched him a good price when he traded them in a town.

 

When Bilbo started considering learning to catch smaller birds for meat that he could eat in just a day or so like the rabbits and squirrels he caught, he was taught the Law of Flight, which all of the Eagles abided by. All creatures who ran on the ground or swam in the water were fair game, but if you wished to hunt something which flew on wings, the only honorable way was to do it while it was flying. Nothing which flew should be trapped on the ground and unable to try and escape, and only if you were quick and clever enough to catch it in flight should it be allowed to be hunted. 

Landroval was quick to inform him that anyone in their clan who broke this rule would be dealt with harshly. Since Bilbo didn’t have wings of his own, nets were utterly forbidden, and he didn’t know how to use a bow, he flew with others, or he spooked the game birds up out of the brush and the eagles would catch them in their claws for him and he would share a portion of some other game with them since most of what was caught were much too small for the whole thing to be more than a bite for an Eagle. 

He got permission to collect cast off feathers, and aside from the plentiful amount that could be found down in the valley, he also helped the eagles clean out their nests that spring. Bilbo soon began selling the feathers, and people bought them to be used as fletchings for arrows, or to be turned into quills or paint brushes, though a few bought larger or more colorful ones as decoration. Bilbo also collected piles of eagle down from nests as well. Once it was washed and plucked off the vein, it could be sold for quite a bit of money. Men loved stuffing feathers into pillows or mattresses, and the Eyrie had a surplus.

 

Bilbo made himself a small tent like structure in the very tight corner between the rear of the nest and the stone wall of the mountain. He kept his food and supplies there, and even had a bed in it if he wanted some time to himself. The tent was made from a huge piece of oilskin tarp that was meant to be a large shelter for two or even three men while they travelled. Bilbo had folded it in half, stuffed the inner space with cast off eagle down that he stitched into place in squares, and then sewed the sides together with sinew, making it very warm to stay in, because even in the summer, nights in the Eyrie were cold and windy. There was a raised pallet of branches on the bottom to make sure water wouldn’t settle in or under the tent, and let it air out easier. The spaces between the branches he packed with mud, grass, and eagle down to insulate it and smooth it all out. The ends of the oilskin tent were then tucked under and up over the “floor” of the tent so the wind didn’t catch them. Bilbo’s bed was a very thick cushion of dry grass and eagle down. And on top of that he placed his sleeping sack made from a warg pelt that he had bought, folded in half, and sewn together fur side in. The two dolls he had made and the skull were also kept in his tent away from bad weather so they could be protected. He spoke to them all the time, telling them about his day, the language he was learning, what flying was like, or what had happened in the towns. He told the figures of his parents that he loved them very much and hoped that they were safe and well, and that he would never ever forget them, and would find his way back home to them soon.

The sleeping sack was quite comfortable to sit on during the day while doing his tasks, or to pull into the nest at night. If he was outside of the nest while it was especially cold or windy, there was another large warg pelt that he could hang up inside the tent to keep the warmth in and the wind out. It was a rather mounded rectangular structure, seeing as it was long and supported by two bent branches which crossed each other. At night he still curled up with his eagle family, safe and warm, but during the day he wanted to give Meneldor and Aduialhwest some time to themselves now that Nimsûl and Rhîwroval were flying short distances on their own, and Bilbo liked spending some time outside of the nest too. 

 

Much of Bilbo’s time was spent drying meat and fish, cooking, washing up, flying with his brother and sister, preparing bags of eagle down, and carefully cleaning and smoothing out the larger feathers that he had been allowed to collect. When Bilbo had started taking them into the towns for trade, they ended up selling much better than he had expected. 

There was a paper seller in one of the towns who paid Bilbo very well for any especially nice feathers he brought in that had thick shafts he could sell as quills. The fletcher a few shops over wasn’t nearly as generous, so the paper seller had been getting first pick of everything Bilbo brought to town lately, and anything left over was offered to the fletcher. 

 

Bilbo got paid very well the day he brought in one of the huge primary pinion feathers from Gwaihir’s own wingtip, which was much longer than Bilbo was tall. Bilbo had to carry it into town over his shoulder, holding it with both hands, and had wrapped it gently in cloth so it wouldn’t catch the wind and knock him off balance, or draw the attention of others who might get too curious. It was huge, and quite heavy for a feather, and definitely nothing you could use for a quill. But he had brought it to the paper seller regardless, thinking maybe the paper seller would like it for a display piece or something. Big folk were odd like that sometimes, buying things that didn’t do anything really useful. 

The paper seller had been shocked at what Bilbo had found after he set it on the counter and unwrapped it. When Bilbo mentioned that if he didn’t want it, he was going to see if the Fletcher did, since the man could make several hundred arrows from it, the paper seller’s eyes had gone wide and he had immediately bought the feather from Bilbo at more than five times what he usually paid. He also bought most of the ones Bilbo had brought in for potential trade as well, because apparently there was a long standing rivalry between the two that Bilbo had known nothing about. 

Shortly after the coins were in Bilbo’s purse, the man had asked him where he usually collected his feathers from, with a definite look of greed in his eye. Bilbo was wise enough to reply that he found lots of things while wandering the woods, he had found feathers in several places all over since he was a toddler, but he didn’t know where or what the bird was and had never seen it in person, since his family wandered a lot, which is why he only came to town once a month. The man was rather disappointed at that news.

 

It was very late summer before anyone finally saw a group of dwarves in a town, but when Bilbo was taken there and he cautiously approached them to ask about the Shire, and if they knew where it was, he was gruffly told that they had never heard of such a place. These particular dwarves were from far to the south, and had come north with spices to trade. They never traveled further than the single road from there to Erebor and back. He was told that Erebor dwarves traveled more often, and even had steady trade routes all over Arda. Even though they hadn’t known where his home was, they had a tinker wagon with a good grind wheel and a set of whetstones, so he paid them to sharpen all of his knives and bought a large selection of their delicious smelling spices while he was waiting. Bilbo couldn’t wait to start trying some of them. It was still with disappointment that he returned back to the Eyrie, and wondered if he would find his way home soon. 

Nimsûl and Rhîwroval had taken their first day long flights that midsummer, but were still considered too young to nest on their own by the beginning of autumn, because they still couldn't hunt for themselves successfully.

The Eagles found a large pack of wargs that autumn, and killed them all. Warg was far from Bilbo's favorite meat, tough, chewy, and very gamey as it was. But he pounded it flat and tender as possible  then preserved some anyways just in case it was needed, and stored lots of extra food in rough packs made out of deer hides that he then hung on the sides of the nest so they wouldn’t take up valuable space inside it. He stacked extra wood as far up as he could reach, and as deep as he could safely place in the far corner of his fire pit area, so he wouldn’t need to make as many trips for more.

His birthday passed without much notice, since he didn't exactly have a calendar to make sure he got the date right. Just, by the end of autumn he knew that he was older. Eight years old felt significantly different from the almost seven he had been when the Eagles had first found him. But Eagles didn't exactly celebrate birthdays, so it passed like any other day. 

That winter was milder than the first one, hardly any snow and the winds were generally blowing in a direction that left their nest in the lee of it. Bilbo weathered it quite well, and didn’t even have to heavily ration anything because he had made sure to gather plenty of supplies and collect more whenever Landroval took him to a town. Come spring he gave the dried warg meat to his family, and began selling cast off feathers again after the eagles molted. He had quite the supply built up with nearly forty eagles in the Eyrie, with several eggs and fledglings growing steadily. He tried to make sure he only sold a few at a time, because he didn’t want anyone to wonder where he got so many large feathers from or try to follow him back home. The fact most of them were different coloring was a dead give away they came from different birds, and there were many hunters who would probably love to know where a large nesting ground of giant eagles was.

 

Bilbo’s hair was very long now, and that spring his eagle family had each given him one of their feathers to tie or braid into his hair, as proof that he was truly one of them. Since he had lived with them for over a year now, he was considered fully adopted family. Braiding his hair was easier than trying to cut it nicely or just letting it get blown everywhere in the near constant wind, and having several plaits in his hair made him appear more dwarvish, even if the feathers didn't. But that was fine, because he wasn’t a dwarf, he was a hobbit. 

He found an old woman in one of the towns who taught him quite well how to braid in a variety of styles, and he practiced them all as often as he could. The toiletry kit that had been in his pack was well used on a regular basis, and he began plaiting the beads into it as well since he was fond of them. After he proudly started wearing his Eagle family’s feathers, Landroval was quick to gift him his own feather as well. It made Bilbo feel warm and special, and he hugged his dear friend tightly.  

There were again very few dwarves in the towns that year, and the few groups and single travelers he did find, knew nothing of the Shire. But it didn't bother him as much anymore. A year is a very long time for a child, and while he in no way forgot his parents or his desire to return home, the need was no longer as pressing since he was safe and surrounded with love, and had adjusted to his new situation. 

The summer passed very quickly that year and was cooler than most, and before he knew it Bilbo was stuffing stores up to get him through his third winter during the quickly cooling autumn again.

 

Bilbo was drying out elk meat in preparation to endure another long winter on the rock face, when Eithelamdir, the eagle who had brought him the dwarven pack two years ago, and who Bilbo sometimes flew with to search the world for shiny or useful things, stopped by their nest to talk to Meneldor. Though Bilbo had lived among eagles for just about two whole years now, and could speak their language quite fluently, he couldn't really understand what they were saying because they were speaking low and fast, meaning the words were easily stolen by the winds. It seemed like good news though. Eithelamdir affectionately groomed the lock of Bilbo’s hair that held the feather he had also  gifted to him before he left, and Bilbo hugged him tightly. Later that day Meneldor encouraged Bilbo to fly with him, because they needed to speak. As they crested over the mountains of the Eyrie and up into the clouds, Bilbo realized that this was the first time he and Meneldor had flown without any sort of destination in mind.

“ _ We have found you shelter with the friend of an ally of ours, who has agreed to house you through the winter, since this one should be far harsher than the one when you first came to us. We shall not risk your life, Galadhên. We will return for you once the thaw comes, and we know he will protect you. _ ”

It was the first Bilbo had heard about possibly staying elsewhere, though he had often heard the other eagles talking about how bad the winter was going to be, according to the winds, which is why he had stored up more than double what he had for the year before.

“What's his name?”

“ _ Eithelamdir was told by Aiwendil that his name is Beorn, and that he has his trust. He lives alone in the woods near The Carrock. The Istari have long been allies to the eagles, Aiwendil and Olorin especially, so we trust their advice when it comes to dealing with the two legged races. _ ”

The thought of a warm house to stay in with a nice fireplace during the winter was quite appealing, though he also knew he would miss his adopted family dearly. Besides there wasn’t really much of a decision to make. Harsh winters meant less food, less food meant less work getting done, as well as fewer fires that he could make, which meant more time spent in the nest if he was to stay warm. While he provided for himself well enough, he didn’t like heavy rationing, or taking food away from an Eagle who would need it just as much as he would. Going to stay somewhere else for the winter would help the Eyrie, and so, Bilbo would go away for the winter. 

 

A week later Bilbo was packed up with all of his food and supplies, the winter provisions he had collected included, because he didn’t want all of his hard work going to waste. He bid goodbye to Aduialhwest and Meneldor for the winter, after hugging them for a very long time. He nudged Nimsûl and Rhîwroval in the affectionate way they did when they stopped by, having both built a nest nearby that summer. He cried in his mother's wings for just a bit before he flew off with Landroval, Bilbo's packs gripped firmly in his claws, since they were still much larger than himself. 

It took hours by eagle flight, more than half a day, which Bilbo knew meant it was very far away from the Eyrie indeed. The land opened up from the woodlands into a stretch of grassland, and at the far end of one end of it there was a little house with smoke curling out of the chimney. Well, he had thought it was a little house while they were in the air. He soon found out that it was much MUCH larger once they landed in the field nearby.

And then he'd seen Beorn walking towards them casually, and Bilbo was suddenly feeling very small and shy and scared. Nope, he had changed his mind. The winter couldn't be  _ that _ bad, he'd done just fine the past two years and he would be fine now too. He didn't even notice that he had buried himself under Landroval's wing completely, and shook his head VIOLENTLY 'NO' when Landroval chirped to him in question. Nope, he was **_not_** coming out, they were leaving.  _ Right. Now.  _ Beorn wasn't just one of the Big Folk, he was the biggest Big Folk Bilbo had ever laid eyes on, easily twice the size of a normal Man, and the same across, and he had a face that looked half animal. No. NonononononoNO!

 

“ _ Galadhên, Galadhên it's alright, he won't hurt you, he isn't a Man. He's a shapeshifter, one of the last of his kind. Men and orcs have hurt him badly too, he understands. He knows how you feel. He's agreed to protect you for us through the winter, remember? _ ” Landroval chirped at him in the Eagle tongue and nipped the end of one of his braids to try and distract him.

He did remember, but that still wasn't making his racing heart beat any slower, or the tightness in his chest ease so that he could breathe better, or the tears in his eyes stop running down his face. Why would Landroval  _ bring _ him  _ HERE _ of all places?! He knew that the big folk tended to scare him badly, and yet he planned to  _ leave him there _ for MONTHS. There was no way he could do this! 

He saw the giant man sit on the ground patiently though, and that just made him feel worse for being so scared and shy. He didn't mean to be, but he couldn't help it either. He knew Landroval could feel him shaking and probably hear his heartbeat too. But he couldn’t come out when he was this scared and crying though.

“Little One, it's alright to come out. I know, I seem big and scary, but I never harm living things, I don't even eat meat. The only things I'm scary towards are orcs and goblins, and you definitely aren't one of those. I'm Beorn.” 

 

It took a very long time for Bilbo to calm down, stop crying, and breathe easily again. It helped that while Beorn was just sitting there chatting to Landroval about calm things like the weather, two ponies, four large dogs, a couple of sheep, and three rabbits had all come wandering up and just settled in beside the giant, and he was smiling and petting them lazily, entirely unafraid of him, and that, more than anything else finally managed to put Bilbo’s mind at ease. 

One of the rabbits was quite curious and fearless, it came straight up to Landroval, and then under him, to where Bilbo was still hiding. It sniffed around Bilbo’s toes and then sat up on its hind legs and placed a single paw on Bilbo’s knee, as if it was trying to reach up as high as possible to get a good look at him, see what he was. Bilbo picked up the bunny and held it close. It was soft to the touch and utterly trusting, and the soft fur and the way it cuddled into his arms calmed him down quite a lot.

Slowly Bilbo managed to venture out with another nudge from Landroval and the bunny still in his arms. Beorn was still sitting there patiently as Bilbo peeked up and said softly: “I'm Bilbo Baggins.”

Landroval let out a small shriek of affront and Bilbo winced a bit. The Eagles hadn't known he still called himself Bilbo Baggins several times a day because he didn't want to forget it. But to Landroval it seemed like he hadn't accepted his eagle name. To deny its existence was to deny the clan and their acceptance of him. He tried to be brave and keep his voice steady.

“M-my eagle name is special Landroval, very special, as much as my birth name, b-but I can't forget my parents. I still want to save them and go back to the Shire one day, and the only way I can is if I don't forget that I'm Bilbo Baggins, son of Belladonna and Bungo too. Only those I love have the right to call me my eagle name, a-and I don't know Beorn yet.”

This seemed to calm Landroval’s temper at least. An Eagle's ire was a vicious thing to raise, and he didn't want Landroval angry with him right before they parted for months.

Bilbo cautiously walked towards Beorn, trying not to tremble as the man casually held out a hand for Bilbo to shake. They sat in that meadow for a good long while, petting the animals who were all quite curious about him, until Bilbo felt steady again, and realized that despite his initial reaction, he rather liked Beorn.

 

“ _ You'll return in the spring? _ ” Bilbo asked Landroval as he hugged his friend and the eagle curled his neck around him when Landroval seemed satisfied and was looking ready to leave.

“ _ After the valley thaws, I'll return for you. The winter will be worse this year, so it might not thaw up there until summer, and you'll have to be patient, but know that I will come back. _ ”

Bilbo nodded and hugged his friend tighter before letting go. “ _ I love you Landroval. _ ”

“ _ I love you too Galadhên, be well, I'll be back before you know it. _ ” And then tugged his feather that was braided into Bilbo's hair, and with a last bow to Beorn and thanking him in Westeron for looking after Bilbo for them, he took off back into the sky, winging west towards the far away Eyrie.

“Come then Bilbo Baggins, it's time for lunch. There's vegetable soup, and bread, hard boiled eggs, and even a nice wedge of cheese. Do you like honey cakes? We can have some while you tell me all about how you came to live with the eagles. I'm quite fond of stories, are you?”

 

Beorn had no problem picking up the packs and then Bilbo himself so he wouldn't fall behind, and they headed towards the giant's house. But it wasn't just the house and Beorn that were huge,  _ everything _ was bigger on Beorn's lands; the plants, the animals, the fence, even the bees seemed ten times their normal size. Bilbo felt very very small, but there were sheep, goats, cows, dogs, rabbits, ponies, chickens and ducks. Apparently none of which were for eating, if Beorn truly didn’t eat meat. 

There was also a huge vegetable, fruit, flower, and herb garden, with a smaller plot filled with medicinal plants. Behind the far side of the house there were fields filled with grains, and even a proper orchard with several beehives in it. Even though it wasn't the Shire, it was the closest looking place Bilbo had seen to it in years. It made him feel much more comfortable with the whole thing, and though he didn't even reach Beorn's knee, he didn't view him the way he would a Man either.

Bilbo felt much better after a very filling lunch and he had told Beorn his story. The shapeshifter went off to chop some firewood afterwards, so Bilbo got to explore Beorn's garden a bit. The animals were all quite curious about him, and the sheep especially liked him. When he was petting one on the head another butted him in the bottom, sending him sprawling over the sheep’s back, who bleated happily and carried him off as if Bilbo were a sack of potatoes. It made Bilbo laugh, which apparently had been the whole point. Beorn found Bilbo later that afternoon curled up asleep against a black lamb, with the rabbit from earlier in his arms, two more bunnies around him, and the mother rabbit snoozing curled up next to his stomach. The huge man carefully picked Bilbo up and tucked him into the little bed he had made up for Bilbo near the fire.

“Sleep little bunny, nothing shall disturb or hurt you here.”

Bilbo woke up long after dark, after the fire had burned to embers and the house was dark and quiet. His host was nowhere to be seen, the bed was empty, but a large footstool near his bed had a bowl of hearty bean and lentil stew with tomatoes, carrots, peppers, corn, onion and garlic that was kept warm over an ember pot. There were giant, thick slices of bread, butter flavored with herbs, a wedge of cheese, a generous slice of lemon cake, and a large cup of cider. He tucked in until he was utterly stuffed, and quickly fell back to sleep, warm and full.

  
  


In the morning Bilbo began learning how to help Beorn. He started with being taught how to tend the two cows, and then harvest vegetables and fruit, as well as how to dry or preserve them so they would last them through the winter. He gutted vegetables, cleaned and dried seeds for next year's planting. He shucked corn, beans, and peas, shelled and roasted almonds, peanuts, walnuts, and nuts he didn't even know on sight. He learned to make candles, dug up what seemed to be mountains of onions, carrots, and potatoes, thresh grain, and grind flour. There were jams and jellies to cook, honey to collect, things that needed pickled and salted. They baked twelve types of hard tack to last them through the winter, and he learned how to make fruit, seed, and honey cakes, and about a hundred recipes for beans and vegetables and eggs that he never would have thought of on his own.

There were tools to sharpen, animals to feed, manure to rake, and everything was bigger than Bilbo was used to. It was extremely hard and dirty work, but he didn't complain and he didn't shirk, it was all things that needed done before winter set in that would help them survive, and he learned so much from Beorn that he wished he had known before. 

In the evenings after a hearty meal and a warm bath, they often took out the large game set Beorn had that held boards and pieces for chess, alquerques, nine men’s morris, fox and geese, tables, hazard, mancalla, knucklebones, and even had two decks of cards for card games so they could also play noddy, all fours, and one and thirty. Bilbo was very good at noddy and had always loved fox and geese. But a few were entirely new games to him and he liked learning them.

Even when they were snowed in for almost a month later on, there was no shortage of things to do. He learned how to make dyes, refine beeswax, make candles, soap, and lamp oil, how to press apples, grapes, and olives, and even how to make beer and bread. They bottled dried herbs and spices, shelled dried beans, roasted nuts, and Beorn even taught him how to separate flax, clean cotton, comb and card wool and spin all those fibers into thread, then spin thread into yarn, and turn the yarn into cloth on a loom. Beorn even taught him ten new stitches with a needle that he had never known before, as well as how to knit and crochet. Every day was a new lesson, something new to learn that he took to with relish.

They told each other stories of their lives, and after Bilbo told him about Eithelamdir delivering the huge pack, dwarf bones and all, he showed Beorn the medical box, which he still carried around because there were still several useful things in it. And though Beorn couldn't read the bottles either, he taught Bilbo several basic things he should know to tend wounds and a few illnesses. While Beorn shared his stories, Bilbo shared all of the songs he knew, and the house was warm and filled with merry tunes and companionship and the satisfied feeling of accomplishment that comes after a day of work is done well. 

 

Beorn wasn’t very physically affectionate at first, which Bilbo wasn’t used to, far more accustomed to the endless small affections that both of his families had always gifted him with at every turn. One night, while he was very much wishing for Aiduilhwest’s preening of his hair, Bilbo screwed up his courage and asked Beorn if he would comb his hair, and the giant shapeshifter actually agreed. It was soothing and gentle as Beron made his way through each of Bilbo’s braids, combed them out and then redid them. While the shapeshifter worked he also learned the story of each one of the feathers woven into it and who they belonged to. When Beorn was done, Bilbo took up the comb and returned the favor with Beorn, finding it far easier to work on smoothing out proper hair, no matter how wild, than trying to tame a million feathers. Beorn was warmer towards him after that, often setting Bilbo on his knee while they talked so that Bilbo didn’t have to lean so far back to meet Beorn’s eye, or cuddling beside him as the shapeshifter helped him hold his hands right while he learned to knit and crochet.

When Bilbo missed the eagles, which was often, he would spend the day speaking in only the Eagle tongue to keep in practice, though only the few wintering birds in the garden seemed to even remotely understand him. Beorn came to understand a few words over time, but he was hopeless at whistling or chirping, so he only replied in Westron. Whenever the house was dark and quiet and the winter storms howled and raged outside, Bilbo took to singing the Eagle’s Song of Flight in its entirety, to remind himself of the warm summer thermals, and that no matter how long and harsh the winter was, spring would come again.

In a way, staying so busy made the winter fly by, and this year, Bilbo did give someone a gift for the winter solstice. He knitted Beorn a scarf out of linsey woolsey that he had spun himself and dyed a nice dark green. Beorn had made him some gardening tools his own size, and Bilbo loved them.

 

It was a very long winter, and Spring was quite late in coming, but there wasn't a sign of Landroval anywhere, not that Bilbo had much time to spend watching the skies for his friend. Once the thaw started in earnest Bilbo was up before dawn every day helping Beorn with the lambing, the calving, and the changing of bedding and nests for dozens of new baby animals; ducklings, chicks, bunnies, puppies, and a pair of twin fauns that had wandered in from the forest. Bilbo wondered why Beorn kept them if he didn’t eat them, seemed a great many mouths to feed, but also not as many as there could have been. When Bilbo asked, he learned that Beorn didn’t feed most of them, they fed themselves around his lands, and they all helped each other. 

The chickens and the ducks ate bugs, snails, and slugs from the fields which might ruin his crops, scratched up young weeds, and helped dig up the earth with their scratching and pecking. In return for their clean nests and a safe place to stay, Beorn got eggs, feathers, and his lands fertilized. The sheep ate the weeds and fertilized the fallow pastures they grazed in. He would turn those pastures to fields the next year, and the sheep gave him wool and milk. The cows and ponies also cleared and fertilized fields, helped him plow his lands, haul heavy loads, and chase off small predators. The cows of course also gave milk. Even the rabbits, who most would consider a pest, helped out by burrowing under small trees to keep fallow fields clear of large plants, created natural drainage channels so that the fields wouldn’t flood with spring rains, fertilized the land, and allowed regular brushings so that Beorn could collect their loose fur and spin it into thread and yarn. 

Beorn explained how all life exists in a cycle of some kind, and that there were many many cycles on how to live, and how some of them even intertwine. If you are doing it right, life will flourish around you strong and healthy. He lived with a cycle that didn’t cause harm to another being for his food, because it wasn’t needed. Each creature gives something of value to the others in their cycle, supporting each other and keeping things in balance. His farm gave food, shelter, and protection for the animals, assistance to birth their children, and provided ways to keep them clean and healthy. They in turn provided food, warmth, and help to maintain the fields they all survived on, and could even provide Beorn things to trade like wool or cheese if there was a bad crop one year and he needed extra from outside sources. 

“Something doesn’t always have to die in order to be useful to you. But it is also not the right way for everything to live, for not all creatures can do the same because they exist in different cycles, under different rules. An Eagle, for example, exists in the hunter cycle. They hunt large prey that can destroy the forests if their numbers grow too large, meaning other life can’t grow there, so no food for smaller creatures. The Eagles hunt orcs and goblins and wargs so that their numbers do not grow too dangerous to Men, because the fell creatures do not live by the rules, they only cause destruction. That also helps the balance. The valley beneath their nests is likely rich and lush with greenery, for the rains washing the rocks clean fertilizes it, helping it grow. The forest grows stronger because of the Eagles, allowing smaller animals to make their homes there because of safety and food, which draws other predators there to hunt, and whose numbers the Eagles will also maintain a healthy number of. Fewer predators means the larger prey will feel safe enough to return to eat, but not be able to take too much, completing the cycle. 

People are the only ones who can change the cycle they live in if they choose to. An Eagle cannot live by another circle’s rules. They could not survive on vegetables, grains, milk, and honey as I do, they aren’t made for it. It would make them ill, and they would eventually die. But for me, it is a choice I can make, and have decided to do so. I do not like killing, but that is my own choice to make. You do not truly have a choice right now. The Eagles hunt, you live with the Eagles, and so you too are a hunter, for that is the cycle you live in. From the moment you got there, you adapted to the The Eyrie’s ways, since that is how the flock survives, and that is fine. As long as you understand what you are doing, do not kill without need or purpose, know how to do it so that the creature doesn’t suffer needlessly, and waste as little or nothing of it as possible. Those are the rules of the hunter’s circle.”

Bilbo asked Beorn if it bothered him that he had brought a lot of meat with him from the Eyrie when he came. He didn’t want to offend the shapeshifter. But Beorn said it was fine, any supplies Bilbo needed to bring were welcome, so long as Bilbo didn’t try to eat any of Beorn’s animals. Bilbo apparently looked so scandalized at the very idea of eating anything which his host loved like his own children, that the shapeshifter burst out into great booming laughter and said it proved his point that Bilbo had adapted to Beorn’s cycle of life without noticing it.

“You instinctively know the difference between the two cycles, and can adapt to each as needed. All creatures instinctively know their place in the world and how to live in harmony with it. Always listen to that instinct Bilbo, because it is Men who sometimes have to remember. They often believe themselves better than the rest. You are wiser than that.”

 

Bilbo helped with spring planting, and milking the cows three times a day. Beorn then taught him everything there was to know about dairy work from how to clean the rooms, to each of the tools to use and the types of things you could make. He learned how to separate cream from milk, make curds and whey and clotted cream from what he had collected. And since they had so very much milk, Beorn also taught him how to make butter, yogurt, and soft cheeses, and even how to get rennet from soybeans, thistles, and nettles so he could make hard cheeses that they dipped in beeswax and aged for later in the year or even next winter. 

The fact they kept so very busy meant he all but put the Eagles out of his mind. Landroval had promised to return, and he was an eagle of his word. The spring storms were warming up and the summer flowers just beginning to bloom when Landroval finally returned.

“Landroval!” Bilbo cried in happiness as he threw his arms around his friend.

“Hello little one. My goodness you've grown!”

Bilbo didn't much feel like he had grown, but then on Beorn's lands everything made one feel quite small. He had needed to let out the hems in his trousers halfway through his stay though, and they were already getting short again, so perhaps he had. It took nearly a full day for them to repack Bilbo's things. Beorn insisted on filling the packs with food and goods, since most of Bilbo's things had stayed with the eagles, and Bilbo was welcome back at any time, in fact according to Landroval he would be returning for the winter again if Beorn didn’t mind, which he didn’t. So the half a pack of dried meat he still had left would be saved for his return, along with the other goods he could quickly and easily replace, meaning most of the things he'd brought would remain with Beorn, leaving all of his bags mostly empty. They did not remain that way long, loaded with dried foods and crocks stuffed with preserves of all types, as well as fresh spring and summer foods. Bilbo was puzzled about his gardening tools being added into the things he would be taking with him, until Beorn had suggested that Bilbo could make a little garden for himself in a clearing in the Eagle’s valley, so he wouldn't have to rely on the men for goods so much. Beorn’s rule seemed to be that if you like something, find a way to produce it yourself.

By the time they were done, every pack was loaded with food, seed, and huge bags filled with raw fiber for spinning. As a going away present, Beorn gave him a drop spindle and three sets of knitting needles, and five sizes of crochet hooks that he had carved himself so he would have something to do at night or on days when he was confined to the nest. It was a lovely and thoughtful present and Bilbo hugged his friend goodbye and thanked him for everything several times before he felt able to actually leave.

 

Bilbo was overjoyed to see his family again. After hugging all of them fiercely for several minutes, telling them all about the things he had learned and done, and all about the shapeshifter who was so much nicer than he thought he was, he felt a huge well of happiness bubble up inside of him, along with a huge dose of mischief. He called out loudly to Nimsûl and Rhîwroval, saying he wanted to fly, and have them prove that they were the mighty hunters they now claimed to be. He went running along the cliff edge and jumped out into the open air, close enough that they could easily swoop down to catch him.

Summer in the Eyrie was a lovely time, and he took Beorn's advice and cleared a little patch in the valley for a garden so that he could have vegetables. He managed a few carrots and beets and a potato plant. The ground was hard to clear, and it was a lot harder to do everything himself, but he managed it with the help of Nimsûl and Rhîwroval, who were now old enough to nest on their own and visited their adopted brother often. He went flying with them, and they worked out a game that had him learning how to jump from one eagle to another mid flight, or have them catch him mid air as he jumped off a cliff, he even learned to run along their backs or wings, and jump from one to the other. His fear of flight and high places was long gone, the eagles were kin to him now, and he trusted them with his life. Several of the other eagles saw the game and wanted to learn it too. By the start of autumn he had learned the names of nearly every eagle in the Eyrie, and they knew his, and he had flown with most of them. Landroval especially was quite fond of Bilbo's acceptance of his new life, and also showed him how he could help the Eagles hunt. Bilbo could crawl into the thickets and spook the deer and elk out from hiding, right into the eagle's path, and he did it quite well, because nothing could hear him if he was being sneaky.

There was little time to look for anything in the towns of men this year, since the thaw was so long in coming and the winter was promising to be harsh again, but honestly he hardly had time to pay attention to it because the summer hunts were too crucial to the Eyrie. He still collected feathers, but he didn’t visit more than a handful of places to sell them, this time in bulk because he had been gone so long and didn’t plan on staying because he was more needed at home for the hunts. 

Though he did take time to learn to clean bones and carve them from a traveling carver who also sold all types of small carving knives, chisels, decorative carving tools, awls, files, planers, saws, clamps, and rasps. For the first time in his life Bilbo was utterly frivolous with his money and spent three gold coins to buy every style of tool the man had, along with whetstones, straps, oil, a mallet, a fine box to carry them all in, and detailed instruction on how to use and care for each one. He even bought a week’s worth of intense carving lessons and took to them well enough he was told to work on wood as well as bone. By the end of summer he was making knife handles, carved walking sticks, dice, beads, buttons, bone needles, and quills in his limited downtime. 

 

There was talk of the Eyrie wintering with another group of eagles further south, where they could hunt longer. The first storm rose up suddenly in the mountains in late summer, after first harvest, but before second harvest or his ninth birthday, and it lasted three whole days, grounding every eagle, even Gwaihir. When it was over, the mountains were buried in over two meters of snow, and another storm was heading in fast, so he was immediately packed up and returned to Beorn's house, his oat crop utterly lost and he was rather upset about it after he had worked so very hard to plant it.

The snows had not reached Beorn's yet, late summer was still warm and thick upon the world, with just a hint of autumn in the air. Bilbo helped with the winter preparations, only this time, right as the second harvest was ending, a week before his birthday, a strange man riding on a sled pulled by large rabbits came racing across the fields towards the house. Bilbo ducked back inside and hid, knowing that Beorn would either chase the man off normally, or get very scary. Bilbo hadn't seen Beorn get scary yet, the shapeshifter had always told him to stay inside, that his beast didn't always know friend from foe, and it was best to err on the side of caution.

But he heard neither roar of beast or Beorn's bellowing voice scare the stranger away, instead, several minutes later he heard Beorn  _ laughing _ and the front door open. “-of course, there is always room for old friends. Bilbo! Bilbo it's alright, this is Radagast, a very good friend of mine, he won't hurt you, and I know he looks like a man, but he's a wizard, and a very good one.”

Bilbo peeked out from behind the hobbit sized bed Beorn had made for him last winter, and felt himself stare at this very odd looking stranger, who felt... familiar, and familiar tended to not be a good thing in his experience with men shaped folk.

Radagast's eyes went wide upon seeing Bilbo, and Bilbo felt wary. Nope, no Big Folk taking that much interest in him was ever a good thing.

 

“My goodness, a Summer Child! Beorn wherever did you find him so far from home?”

Bilbo had blanched at this stranger almost calling him the meaning of his Eagle name without a thought.

“The eagles brought him to me last winter, they saved him from orcs after Men killed his father and sold his mother. They have been hoping to find a caravan who knows where somewhere called The Shire is, but haven't been lucky so far.”

“I doubt they will find anyone who knows, and that's not surprising. Yavanna's children wandered far across most of the lands of the world before finding a new place of their own, and now are said to hardly ever leave it. When they settled in their new lands their magic hid them from unfriendly eyes, and I am told another wizard, Gandalf, also cast his own spell on the Shire to keep it safe, so that those who do know will not be able to easily find it again on their own, or point to it on any map unless they have been welcomed or are a hobbit themselves. Gandalf would know where it is, he makes it his business to know everything he shouldn't, but I haven't even heard rumor of his whereabouts for nearly a hundred years now. He does enjoy spending time with the elves though, they could probably locate him. Otherwise I'm afraid you are quite lost to your people young Bilbo.”

That was a very difficult thing to hear, but for some reason, Radagast reminded him of the Shire very much. Even more than Beorn, he smelled of the earth and green things and animals, and before he quite knew what he was doing, he had actually gone over to the Wizard and clung to him, burying his little button nose in the brown robes, and didn't understand why he suddenly started crying, and then outright sobbing, but Radagast didn't mind, in fact he was quite gentle. He picked him up and held him close, which just made Bilbo cry all the harder for a long time. Because it was real now, he was lost, his mother was gone, and no one was going to come looking for him and his family, or know where the Shire was. He couldn't ever go home again. Eventually he cried himself to sleep.

 

Radagast tucked Bilbo into his bed, and Beorn looked at him in confusion. “If the hobbits are Yavanna's children, and you are Yavanna's champion, shouldn't  _ you _ be their protector instead of another wizard? Shouldn't you out of everyone, know where this Shire is?”

“That's not entirely how it works. Saruman is connected to Aule, you don't see him championing the dwarves. The Ents are Yavanna's children too, but I wouldn't dream of getting involved in their affairs without being asked to. I will try and find Gandalf, hobbits should not be away from family, it's not good for them.”

“He's got family and home enough between the eagles and myself, and it looks like he's planning on claiming you too. But if you do search, don't tell him, it's best not to get his hopes up just to let them down. If you find the Shire, then tell him.”

Radagast agreed and sent out a sparrow to try and locate the gray wizard, and asked the moles if they had ever heard of such a place as the Shire. The moles didn't know, and the sparrow returned in the spring without luck. It was a disappointment, but it was also just the beginning.

 

They received a message at Afteryule, that the Eagles had gone south, and would not be returning to the Eyrie for at least a year or two, until the bad winters passed, and they could hunt better and let the deer herds recover and come closer. Bilbo's family planned on coming to visit him often, but they wouldn't be taking him back with them until they went home, because they weren't truly nesting there and the other group of Eagles was not friendly to any two legged race at all.

So Bilbo happily stayed with Beorn, and Radagast did too. The brown wizard spoke bird language, though apparently the Great Eagle's speech was a different dialect than the common eagle's speech he was used to, enough words were shared between the two, or just had a slightly different inflection, that he could help Bilbo learn more of it, even when the Eagles weren't there. Though Aduialhwest was sure to chide Bilbo on his accent when he went home.

The three of them often sat around the fire after dinner, Bilbo often either carding or spinning wool or working on little carvings as Radagast told stories of the forest or he and Beorn spoke at length on any number of topics. Bilbo would often curl up against one of them when he began to wear down for the night, and Beron often picked him up and set Bilbo to bed after he had fallen asleep against one of them, his work falling lax from his fingers. 

Radagast also was shown the still unknown contents of Bilbo's medical kit, and while he couldn't read the labels either, he could identify every plant, ointment, and unguent, as well as knew all of their functions and uses. Realizing that there was a gap in Bilbo's information that he could fill, he set to teaching Bilbo the names, uses, and looks of every plant as if it were the most important thing he could ever know. Bilbo was quizzed night and day, even in the middle of chores, until he could answer correctly on the identity, edibility, and medicinal uses of each plant Radagast would show to him.

 

The spring chores were just winding down into the two weeks of lazy waiting before the first plants were ready to pick, and Bilbo was thrilled to wake up one morning to the shrill cries of Nimsûl and Rhîwroval calling him to come and fly. He dashed out of bed so fast he could hardly put his trousers on right, and forgot about combing and braiding his hair entirely. Landroval was landing in the field with Bilbo's siblings on either side, and it was a difficult decision on who to hug first. In the end Nimsûl reached him first and they all chittered and chirped away at once in the Eagle tongue, and Bilbo didn't even notice how well he was keeping up and joining in with everyone, or that he wasn't speaking Westeron at all. 

The four of them played their flying game until Bilbo was well and truly back in practice, and he could spot Beorn and Radagast below watching them with interested but concerned faces. It was then that Bilbo decided that he had waited long enough.

When they landed in the field, Radagast was eager to meet them, for he had only been introduced to Gwaihir before, and Bilbo was happy to introduce him to his sister, his brother, and his best friend, then in turn introduce all of the Eagles to Radagast, and his siblings to Beorn. “And I'm Galadhên The Sunlight Child.”

Beorn's eyes went wide, he knew the implications even though Radagast was unaware, and smiled and hugged the little one. “I still think 'Little Bunny suits you too.” And Bilbo laughed because it was true, the rabbits had all but adopted him as well, and curled up with him at night so that he was always toasty warm no matter how cold the winter.

The eagles stayed for three days, and told Galadhên the bad weather might last as long as four years, but that they had every intention of visiting him at every opportunity, for they refused to be separated from their family member for so long. All through the summer one or two eagles would come to visit, and stay a day or two, after that they needed to leave to hunt, which they couldn't do on Beorn's lands.

The other two went back, but Landroval returned him to the Eyrie first to collect the rest of Bilbo's things so that they wouldn't become destroyed by the storms. 

 

Bilbo’s longing for his parents gradually faded, because he was so very well loved by his adopted families. He had three homes now, and though it may be a very long time (if ever) that he saw one of them again, the other two made it so that he didn't miss it too much. Bilbo was loved, and he loved the Eagles and Beorn, and Radagast too.

It was midsummer, and they had just had a lovely dinner that Bilbo had cooked for them. He’d made potato chowder with cheese, chives, and broccoli, fresh baked oat bread with butter, and a salad of arugula, spinach, dandelion greens, red lettuce, and kale, that was topped with cucumbers, carrots and beets, along with a creamy buttermilk dressing seasoned with roasted garlic and dill. 

Radagast spoke up while they were cleaning the dishes. “Bilbo, I'll be returning to my cabin soon, and I was wondering, would you like to go with me? We'd return in a few months, before the last harvest, and I could show you the animals, and so many new plants and their uses, and there's lots of mushrooms too. I know how fond hobbits are of mushrooms.”

Bilbo knew Radagast had felt the same bone deep connection that Bilbo had, one that left a sense of loss whenever the wizard went away. Bilbo looked to Beorn.

“It's your decision little one, and there's no wrong answer. Visit with Radagast if you wish to, I'll still be here when you get back, and you shouldn’t have any visitors right now, it’s the height of the hunts.”

So Bilbo went with Radagast and learned that the hermit knew a lot more than he ever let on. Bilbo’s herb and plant knowledge increased tenfold, and he didn’t just learn cures and remedies, but poisons as well. “One cannot truly learn how to heal, without knowing exactly how to harm.” Radagast taught him, and Bilbo learned the lesson well.

 

And so Bilbo grew and flourished. When they came by he hunted with the eagles during the spring and summers, scaring prey out from their thickets and into his brother and sister's waiting talons. He learned fighting and wood craft from Beorn, as well as how to survive and thrive well and build an excellent self sufficient homestead. From Radagast he learned healing and medicine and how to identify every leaf, animal, and stone in the forest and mountains, as well as all of their properties. He hadn’t known that there were such things as poisonous  _ rocks _ until Radagast had taught him that there were. They even took a trip to study the plants that grew on the plains and by the water over the next couple of years. It felt odd to be in open plains instead of near stone peaks or lots of trees.

And during the winters Bilbo wandered the woods with Beorn's bear at his side, for he had long since been accepted by the bear as his cub, and through him, he learned how to listen to the winds to tell him about what was going on in the world, how to sense the earth, and scent the air around him, how to track and hunt prey, and the best ways to take down an enemy.

 

By the time he had turned thirteen, the Eagles had fully returned to nesting in the Eyrie, and in addition to his feathers, Bilbo now also wore a long lock of both Beorn’s and Radagast’s hair braided into his own and set with wooden beads that he had carved. Beorn and Bilbo spent a few weeks that spring building a cozy little cottage in the valley below the Eyrie for Bilbo to live in, and keep a fire in a real hearth for the half of the year he was there. They cleared enough trees for a meadow, where the deer could feed, and the eagles could land. He wouldn’t keep livestock though, since he wouldn’t be there to care for them half the year. Beorn also helped him build and till a proper sized garden. He hunted small game for himself, and fished in the stream, and the eagles still brought him a portion of deer meat from time to time. 

Bilbo had accepted that he was alone among his kind, that his father was most likely dead, and his mother was either dead or lost to him. He had checked every last town or village there was left to check thrice over by now. He even stopped asking if anyone knew where The Shire was. Instead of going off and trying to gather information with the dwarves, who never seemed to know anything of what he was talking about, he stopped building up his hopes only to be disappointed, and just allowed the eagles and Beorn and Radagast to truly become his family, and was adopted fully by them. He wasn't called Bilbo by anyone anymore, he was Galadhên now, and it was a name he treasured. It was a good life, what he had now, and he intended to make the best of it.

 

Galadhên grew taller and stronger, his hair he let grow freely because the eagles loved the golden wheat color of it, and he wove it into intricate plaits, decorated with the beads he had found in the pack, ones of bone and wood he had carved himself, and feathers from his kin. His clothes became made of homespun wool, cotton, linen, pelts, and leather, decorated with feathers or lined with down to keep him warm. Everything was sturdy, rugged, and designed to have more than one function.

He became something entirely new, not fully hobbit, or eagle, or wild man, or hermetic wizard, but a strange combination of the four. Beorn had made sure he was deadly with a staff, knife, axe, bow, slingshot, and throwing knives. He had learned grappling from Beorn's dogs, who were quite willing to gang up on him when asked.

Radagast had made sure he was an expert with both medicines and poisons, which he coated on the knives he used whenever an orc or goblin got too near, so even if the blow didn't kill it, the poison undoubtedly would.

 

Because it seemed a valuable and useful skill to learn, and the supplies were all readily available to him for free, Galadhên decided that he was going to start trying to figure out how to make pelts and tanning leather. He had seen it done before in the Shire, and was certain that he could do it too.

Once he learned how, he would be able to make all the warm clothes he could ever need, keep his feet warm, have softer bedding and much warmer covers. He also wouldn’t need to worry about running out of coins, if he had a useful good that he could trade or sell. 

Every Eagle he asked allowed Galadhên to skin their catches before they ate them. Before he knew it, he was being gifted the pelts from the whole Eyrie’s hunts to practice on as soon as the eagles caught on to what he was doing. Since the hides did nothing but get in the eagle’s way to begin with, and was their least favorite part to eat as well, Bilbo soon had more pelts than he knew what to do with and was desperately trying to keep up with them all. There was a lot of trial and error, and he failed a lot at first as he fumbled while trying to scrape and dry and tie them in time before they spoiled, got bugs, forever smelled horrible, or just turned into wrinkled sheets of skin he couldn’t do anything with, because they were hard as a rock and still smelled horrible. 

 

Galadhên got a lot better after Landroval took him to one of the towns a month or so later, where he had spied there was a tanner. Galadhên watched the tanner all day, leaving only when the man left for the night. While he stayed out of the way, he asked dozens of questions about how it all worked since the man didn’t seem to mind his presence.

The tanner, who was called Vilhelm, was quite friendly in fact, and encouraged Galadhên’s curiosity, answered every question, and even allowed Galadhên to take a closer look at everything, to try out the different tools, describe their uses, and even get a few tips on how to improve what he had been trying to do, and everything that he had been doing wrong. The tanner also shared the valuable knowledge on how to brain, stretch, and smoke the hides, which Galadhên hadn’t been doing at all, and was why nothing Galadhên had been working on up to that point had been functional.    
  
Though Galadhên still greatly disliked and distrusted the Big Folk, Vilhelm was an older man, and friendly enough that Galadhên made a deal with him. He traded three fresh deer hides to Vilhelm in exchange for proper lessons, and provided his own skins to practice on so he wouldn’t ruin any of the tanner’s sellable stock with his first fumblings. It took two months, and Galadhên camped in the woods outside town, with Landroval coming by every other day or so to make sure that he was alright, was getting enough to eat, and that he hadn’t gotten into trouble of any kind. It was the longest that Galadhên had been away from his homes since he’d been taken to the Eyrie, but the knowledge he was gaining was immensely valuable to him, so he stayed. After Vilhelm had made him go through every step of the process ten times on his own and given him several tricks of the trade, Galadhên had the gist of it down, thanked Vilhelm, had the local blacksmith make him a set of tanning tools, and then went home and began working on his own skins.

It turned out to be a much longer, harder, messier, and smellier process than Galadhên had originally thought it would be, and he often needed an Eagle’s help at first, though he was steadily getting better at doing things on his own with each time he did it. Galadhên set up a workspace in the valley near the river, between several sturdy trees that he could stretch the hides out on, knowing that no human would disturb him down there since the valley was practically inaccessible unless you knew how to get in. He built dozens of different sized frames to stretch the hides out on, and rigged them up on a series of ropes so he could move them around, turn them, and raise or lower them himself.    
  
Galadhên gradually bought several barrels so that he could clean, soak, ash, brain, rinse, or cure his hides in stages in, depending on what he was doing with them. He had also learned how to dry them until he could either process them or sell them to a tanner. He had another barrel to gather and putrefy his scraps in to make glue, and large dry barrels to store the finished hides and pelts in that Landroval could easily grab hold of and fly with. That way he could process several hides at a time and not fall behind with his constant supply. He set up a scraping station, a wringing pole, a stretching ring, a smoking space, and a work table. Though it was recommended to do a whole pelt all at once, it was really hard for Galadhên to try and do full skins simply because he was too small. Most times an animal’s pelt was much bigger than he was, and usually weighed nearly the same if not more than him when wet. Like a warg’s. A fresh warg pelt pulled out of the barrel weighed at least twice or even three times as much as him, and a bear, boar, moose, or an elk, Galadhên needed the help of an eagle to even try or he would never be able to do it. So more often than not he cut large hides in half, thirds, or quarters just so they would be in manageable pieces for him. 

 

When he finally started getting good enough at it, Galadhên decided to sell his extra dried and unprocessed hides to Vilhelm, and the pelts and the leather that were ready to use he sold and traded in some of the other towns of men in exchange for food and supplies instead of using his coins. 

In fact, after awhile he had so many pelts and leather, that he decided to set up a shop for them, but he knew he looked too young for most people to take him seriously. Most people thought he was a dwarf child, since with his feet in the boots you couldn’t really tell unless you looked closely at his ears, which by now were covered by his very long hair, and were often tucked under a hat. But after carefully crafting a large false beard from horse hair that was about the same shade as the hair on his head, it made him look bigger and far older, as well as more dwarf like. That, along with keeping his hands covered with gloves, fingerless for warm weather, the boots still on his feet, and setting the beaver hat on his head so all you could really see of him was his eyes and his nose, you couldn’t really tell that he  _ wasn’t _ a dwarf. He wore his disguise around town one day and many people stopped treating him like a child at all, which thrilled him. 

He attended his first festival shortly after, sitting under the shade of a tree in a space of the market at a low little table he set up, with his wares on display on a blanket in front of him. Soon many of the men in the towns began to give  _ him _ coins, instead of vice versa. He had learned what prices were fair from other travelling pelt sellers and leather workers he had seen, and which types of pelt he should charge more money for. Whole large pelts sold for more money of course, but most people didn’t need that much at once. Galadhên also didn’t offer those, meaning his prices were much cheaper than most and people could afford to buy two or even three medium pieces of different kinds instead of just one huge one. He had so much stock waiting for him back home that he’d be bringing to the next festival, that on the last day he only asked for half of what he had been asking for until then, just so he wouldn’t have to haul it all home again. 

He sold out three hours before the festival ended, and so was able to go and enjoy it for himself and bought several things, including a few sets of summer clothes to wear when it got warm, had a dwarf sharpen his knives, bought a huge load of food stuffs, herbs, spices, soap, and tea. 

But his favorite stop was at a seller that had been kittycorner from him during the festival. A dwarvish toy maker who made the most delightful toys. Puzzle toys, rocking horses, doll houses, carved animals of wood that had parts that could move, cloth dolls, stuffed animals, even music boxes that ranged from small ones housed in tin that fit in the palm of your hand and played as you turned the crank, to medium sized wooden ones and large ornate ones gilded in gold or silver with jewels in them, that played by themselves after being wound with a key. 

Galadhên had been entranced by the large booth throughout the whole festival, and had loved hearing the music boxes. He bought a carved eagle in flight that would balance from its beak on your finger or the end of a stick even if you moved it, so that it looked as though it were flying, and also bought each of the songs the tin music boxes came in, ten in all. He adored the more intricate music a large wooden one made, but it cost too much for him right then, so it was either the single box, or the ten different ones. He chose the ten. 

Listening to music was a special treat, he cherished those music boxes, the notes drifting through the Eyrie and being swept away on the winds. He looked at the clear summer sky, and fell asleep counting the stars.

A few weeks later he found the same dwarves at another festival where he had again set up. When they asked him what his wares were, they agreed to trade for the fancier music box in exchange for a quantity of some good leather. Galadhên gave them first pick and threw in a little extra. The music box sat in pride of place beside him and was often playing the two days he was there. The Dwarves’ names were Bifur and Bofur, and Galadhên thought that they were very nice dwarves, even if they didn’t know where the Shire was. They were from the Iron Hills originally and didn’t really travel to the other side of the Misties. They claimed that there were not enough villages and towns for their liking or to make the expense worth it. Galadhên had a feeling that they weren’t fooled by his fake beard, but they didn’t make an issue of it or really say anything about it at all. 

Aside from the two dwarves he became rather friendly with, Galadhên tended to not try and talk very much to the people who came to his little setup, so he didn’t reveal how young he really was. He did a lot of grunting and harrumphing, and keeping his answers brief like “four coppers” “two silver” and such, in the lowest voice he could manage. He never stayed more than a day or two in any one town, and only on high market, festival, or faire days so that he could see the most people at once, hoping to see someone who might know of the Shire, or perhaps even catch sight of his mother somewhere if she had been sent out shopping perhaps. Landroval was always close by as well, within hearing distance, so Galadhên felt much more confident. 

 

When he came of age Galadhên again searched all of the towns of men he could find one final time, but there was still no trace of his mother at all. And no one he had ever asked had even heard of the Shire. The memories of the place had almost completely faded with time, until it was almost like a dream instead of anything truly real to him, and he couldn't even remember what his mother had looked like, or how her voice had sounded. Sometimes he was mistaken for a dwarf, others a young man or elf, several thought him a mix of two parents of different races. He never bothered to correct any of them, for what they thought didn't matter.

Galadhên had gotten better with his crafting after he had learned how to make cord from sinew and to render animal fat into tallow that he used to make candles, soap, ointments, or even just to sell it whole, likely to be used in food. With his bone and wood carving added to that, letting him sell needles, buttons, knife handles, and jewelry as well as his constant supply of feathers and down, and his herbal knowledge, he even made his own minor remedies for minor things. He became very popular in the handful of towns he frequented most often because of the simple variety of things he had to sell. Bilbo knew he would make even more, he still had several ideas of other things he could make and try out, but he was happy where he was at the moment.

He still sometimes stayed with Beorn from the end of autumn through the early spring to help with the harvest and planting, especially if it was to be a hard winter, and lived down in the valley with the eagles late spring through early autumn. A few years he stayed with Radagast instead or went between all three. 

 

Galadhên sold his wares for money that he didn’t really need these days the more self sufficient he became, but he enjoyed the travelling, and just giving away all of his hard work for free seemed wasteful, plus he enjoyed buying the foods the festivals had on offer, which was often bought with coin, not trade. But he was well off enough that if he saw someone who was obviously doing quite poorly, he’d help them out with a warm pelt and a small pouch of coins. Men might not be particularly merciful, but that didn’t mean that he couldn’t be. He was especially generous if it was a mother with children. 

One year, a week before he was due to go to Beorn’s for the season and the first frost was already thick on the ground, he saw a frail and miserable looking woman with six children, and they all looked to be homeless and starving to death, wearing thin, threadbare clothes and three of them didn’t even have shoes, just thin fabric tied over their feet. Their thin bedrolls were all piled up right in the corner where two buildings met, and seemed to be where they were staying. They were splitting a single meat pasty into sevens, no possible way would they survive the winter like that. 

It was the beginning of this festival, he had done very well at the last three, it being so close to winter, though he still had a lot of stock left over for this one, as he always brought far more than he needed. He was thinking of investing in an actual cart drawn by an animal instead of the large hand pulled one he currently used. 

 

He had been experimenting with warm socks and blankets that he’d made with wool from Beorn’s sheep, sleeping sacs lined with either fur pelts or down, and thick, fur lined boots sewn up with sinew that had sturdy wooden soles this year. So far they had all done quite well. He had made a large travelling tent a few years ago with waterproofed floor and a raised cot for sleeping, but it hadn’t sold, and he mostly used it to shelter his wares from the elements these days, as well as a place to rest if he was at a festival for a week. This wasn’t even a majority of the supply he had at home, and he suddenly had an idea that made him smile.

He bought the sellers out of a large portion of their remaining dried goods and root vegetables, more than enough to see the whole family wintered safely. Next he purchased a good cooking pot, as well as enough wooden cups, bowls, plates and spoons for all of them and a few serving dishes. He kept what portion of the dried goods he would need for himself, but stored the rest in barrels that he packed into the tent. He then bought sixteen meat pasties and a large wheel of cheese, grapes, boiled eggs, a whole bag of oranges, apple tarts and several jugs of cider, and started a large pot of rich brothy vegetable beef and barley soup to cooking while he watched the family near the edge of the festival beg for coins or food, cold and shivering even though the sun was shining that day. 

He then caught the eye of the youngest children, whom he beckoned over with a smile on his face. They wandered up to him hesitantly at first, possibly thinking he might give them a coin or maybe even a few scraps of something he couldn’t sell that they could use, but when he started handing over the hot meals, the rest of the children and their mother soon followed after at his gesture, sat down on warm thick pelts around his fire, where he had all of them eat their fill, fitted each one with shoes they could grow into, a warm woolen blanket, hats, mittens, long woolen undergarments, and trousers and jerkins lined with down to keep them warm, and a cloak of pelts. He didn’t carry shirts or dresses, so she’d have to get those herself or make them from the quantities of woolen cloth he had in the tent if they were needed. 

The mother, whom he learned was named Emily, had lost her husband and all they owned in a fire a few months ago. She had no other family to turn to, and the smoke had left her lungs weak, she had been so sick that she was unable to work. The children did what they could, but it hadn’t been enough, and she feared for them all if she didn’t make it through the winter due to her health. She broke down crying when she heard his proposal. 

 

He would give them all of it, the large weatherproof tent, the inventory, the food, and he’d get her some proper medicine and a healer, as well as free use of anything they might need of his wares, and every coin he had made at the festival as her own to do with as she needed, if she and her family would sell the inventory for him. 

He’d teach them all how much to charge for the goods, and what not to haggle below so they wouldn’t be taken advantage of. He’d return in the late spring with more stock for her to sell, help them get a couple good set of tools so that the children could help, and then teach them his trade. They would split the profits when he came to check up on her in the late autumn. There were seven of them, so she would take seventy percent, and he would take thirty, which would decrease the less stock she needed from him each year. He was betting that within five years, she wouldn’t need any help from him at all, and could make it without him. 

She asked him why he was doing all of this, because she could never even begin to repay him for it. He said sadly “There was a time when my mother was suffering badly, and no one helped her no matter how desperately she begged. I never want to see something like that happen ever again, especially if I can help. I have more than plenty, and a warm house to call my own. You need that too, for whatever reason, and I can help. If you ever do wish to repay me, and can afford to, then after you are well established, find another struggling family or two in another town, and help them get started with everything they need, the same way I helped you. There needs to be more kindness and mercy in the world.”

 

He spent the next week of the festival teaching all but the youngest child exactly how to run the business. They ate well for every meal, four times a day, had Emily rest as much as possible in the warm tent while she still learned what she needed to know. By the end of the second day he was able to let the oldest children do all of the selling, while he sat making more boots and hats, and started showing the children who weren’t selling, how to crochet, knit, and to work with leather and hide. By the end of the festival they were all calling him Uncle Galadhên. He had at demonstrated all the basics of the different types of work, and had all but the youngest going through the entire process of what he did from start to finish on some rabbits and squirrels he caught, so they could at least know how to start. Three of the children were proving a deft hand at the knitting and crochet, and two more were very interested in sewing leather and pelts. They got pretty steady at it quickly, since he was having them practice with small scraps and trimmings that took a lot more needlework and tricky angles. Everything had a use. Not having any true waste was the sign of a good trapper he told them, and they took him very seriously.

When he returned to meet Landroval the day after the festival ended, with only his needed goods, the treats he’d bought, his packs, and his hand pulled cart, Landroval had been surprised. He was doubly surprised when he learned what he had done and why it had been needed. To an Eagle with no understanding of money, or homelessness, it was unthinkable for them to not help an injured one of their own in the Eyrie that had lost their mate and had chicks to raise. Any Eagle would help by bringing them food, repairing their nest, and guarding them until they recovered. He couldn’t even imagine doing otherwise. Galadhên smiled and hugged him. There was a reason he preferred Eagles to Men.

 

The following spring he returned as promised and he was glad to see them all doing quite well, and Emily recovered from her illness. They were rebuilding their house on their old lands, and the oldest two were making sure the garden got planted. Emily was running the business, and all of the children were eager to learn what he had promised to teach. Over the next couple months they all learned to hunt, trap, snare, tan hides and pelts, as well as process the bones, make salves and ointments from the fats, mix medicinal remedies for most things, and treat sinew. All of which they could keep, sell, or trade as needed. They had already known how to make soap and candles, smoke and dry meat, and some basic fiber crafts, but learning how to make a proper set of boots with soles was much harder. 

He had guessed it would take five years before she no longer needed help, she did it in three. He was still welcome to come by for a good meal and some tea any time he passed through, and all of them called him Uncle Galadhên, a name which spread well through the towns he was known in.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Huggles* I luvs you! please don't be mad for the wait!

**Author's Note:**

> I hope that you enjoy reading this as much as I have enjoyed writing this. If so, please leave a review. Comments truly are life and are a great source of inspiration and motivation for more things. 
> 
> My updating cycle tends to be erratic, but I will be posting more of this as soon as I am able to.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


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